Sense of them
by Munkman13
Summary: Quick poems told from Dipper and Pacifica's point of view concerning the other one. Based off of the five senses
1. Chapter 1

**So I have been off line for a long time now, thought I might just get into the groove of things with a few rather pointless things. They are just quick little things. More like poems...**

 **Anyway I own nothing, not even this computer.**

 **Alex Hirsch owns Gravity falls.**

Smell Hers

She smells like soap, and a clean room. Fresh champagne and deodorant.

Clean and high quality.

Her skin smells as if she takes hot baths with multiple different fancy bath salts.

Her hair smells as if she takes care of it so that there are no split ends.

Her clothing smells freshly aired, as if she has owned it for a long time but has

kept it in such good condition that it will never wrinkle, or tear, or get a speck of dirt on it.

She smells like old money, solid gold bars. Cold and clean.

So why does she smell so good?

Smell His

He smells like body odor and cheap soap. Something to just slather on when he first gets in the shower.

He smells as if he sweats from exertion, as if he goes out of his way to

work up a smell by the time that he gets home.

He smells as if he spends entire days trapped inside poring over old books

and pieces of maps that are falling apart just by him touching them.

He smells like pine trees in the middle of summer time, burning logs and monster dung.

He smells like a peasant. A poor little hyperactive boy.

One that is too busy and happy to care about something as pointless as how he smells.


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing, not even this computer. Please review**

Sight Hers

She looks like tempered porcelain. As if her skin was spun instead of grown.

Her hair looks like it was plucked from a corn cob and brushed a thousand times every day.

Her hair looks well fussed over, by herself and others.

Her clothes look high quality and bought with her parents money. Something that a ruler would own.

Her eyes look hard and angry, as if they were plucked out of a river. Not confident or happy,

just frustrated.

But it is sometimes hard to notice that because you can't see her eyes when she laughs or smiles.

And somehow she always seems to be laughing or smiling. Even if it is at a bad time.

Sight His

He looks unkept. As if he only sometimes brushes his hair.

He has a stupid hat that he never changes and it is stiff from sweat.

He looks as if he would wear the exact same clothing every single day if he could.

He looks like he buys for comfort and doesn't have pins stuck into him every time he gets a new set of clothes.

He looks like he is only happy when he is figuring out something new, something that no one else has figured out before.

But somehow that doesn't stop him from glowing. From having a content little glow,

because he finds something new in even the most mundane.


	3. Chapter 3

Sound Hers

She sounds like a harpy.

Or something that is hidden high up in the trees. A dryad maybe, or a nymph.

A creature from another world.

Cross and frustrated, like she wants to strangle you, but that would break one of her nails.

She sounds like high heels clipping down a marble hallway,

or a one sided conversation on a cell phone.

She sounds like ice being chipped off of a statue.

And musical when she melts, amazing when she gushes about something that she had legitimate interest in.

Adorable when she laughs at something other than me or my sister.

Sounds His

He sounds like a comedian, a really bad egocentric one.

He sounds like a wanna be historian, as if he is lecturing a student that he is

sooo much better than.

He sounds like sneakers running over snapped twigs.

He sounds like a pen clicking in the middle of the night, as if he is trying to

click out a morse code.

He sounds like a monotone, chatting to himself and then agreeing.

He sounds like a hero when he is giving a speech.

And a friend when he calls you out on your BS.


	4. Chapter 4

Taste Hers

She tastes like a high class meal.

Something that was rare and expensive, like dodo eggs or caviar.

She tastes like something I should not have kissed.

She tastes too exotic and well taken care of, it was like kissing a girl from a painting.

Something much older and mature, something that would break with too much pressure.

Her neck tasted like too much perfume and a lot of make up.

Slightly salty, because underneath it all she was sweating, just like a regular person.

She sweats like a normal person

Taste His

He tastes like ink from exploded pens.

He tasted like butter from breakfast pancakes and cheap toothpaste.

He tasted like the water he bathed in had too much rust in it,

he tasted like the sort of person that went to the community pool and was covered in chlorine afterwards.

He tasted like a poor person, a poor person who sweats, salty and strong.

He tasted like he spent

time in a rotten shack and went around on all fours in the mud.

He tasted like a taboo, something that you aren't supposed to have near your lips.

But I was still the one who instigated it.


	5. Chapter 5

Feel Hers

She feels delicate, I can count all of the vertebrate in her spine.

She feels as light as a feather and stiff as a goblins bone. She feels

as if her hair was made out of the silk taken from cream.

Spun together to create a living person.

She feels…..

she feels as if she is the most expensive person in the world, but instead of diamonds or gold,

she is made out of pieces of silk and exotic feathers

she feels like she was designed to be anyone else's but mine.

Luckily enough she felt the same vibe I felt.

The vibe that punches you in the face,

that is what she feels like, a punch in the face.

The kind that makes you stop and say;

Hey. There you are.

Feel His

I can count every single rib he has just by running my hand over his shirt

he feels tanned, too much time in the sun.

But somehow he still has splotches where he rubbed against a poisonous plant.

He feels roughed around the edges,

even a little broken in places, but then repaired again.

He feels as if he was broken into pieces and cobbled back together

again.

His lips feel chapped against my neck and his nose too soft where it rubs,

I am worried that he might rub it off on my neck where he nuzzles it.

He feels like a hand to hold,

one enormous hand to hold when you have nothing else

to hold onto.

A hand that will push you forward when you must absolutely move.

And you just don't know it yet.


End file.
